The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)
He puts his hands on his hips. “I did what I had to do.”
“But yet you didn’t bring it down. We did.” I lift Noah’s hand clasped with mine. “We brought it down.”
“Charges are still pending against all guilty parties.” His eyes flick to Noah.
“You can’t be serious.” I glare at him. “Noah killed his own mother to save a room full of infants!”
“She needs to stay calm.” The doctor puts down her needle and removes her glasses with the sternness of an iron-willed schoolteacher. “Her system is too taxed right now. I’ve already ordered an IV for fluids. She’s dehydrated, half starved, and she’s lost blood.”
“I understand, ma’am.” He’s apologetic.
It’s a shock to see him defer to a woman. And that alone tells me that the doctor’s right. My system is taxed, and I’m suffering from my time at Heavenly on all levels.
I lift my gaze to his again. “I’m not talking to you or anyone until I know that Adam and Noah aren’t in any trouble.”
“I can’t promise—”
“I wasn’t finished.” I continue, “I want Jez and all the women who were on that compound given immunity, too. They didn’t do anything wrong.”
Zion clears his throat. “What you did with Grace—classic case of self-defense. But, well, those women tortured a man to death. Killed him by cutting off his…” He clears his throat again. “And ramming it down his throat until he choked on it. Not to mention what they shoved up his…” He swallows hard.
“They didn’t kill a man. The Prophet was a monster! A serial rapist, abuser, murderer—you fucking name it. Don’t you dare try to tell me what they did was wrong.” My throat constricts with unshed tears. “Adam is in surgery. We don’t know if he’s going to live. And you have the nerve to come in here and tell me what you prefer I do and what you want from me.” I lean forward, needing to lash out, to hurt this creep who now acts like he’s some sort of savior. “Unless I know all my friends are safe, you can take your statement and shove it up your ass, you sick fuck!”
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The doctor puts down her needle again and stands. “She can’t handle this kind of stress.”
Zion backs up a few steps. “I’m going.” He turns to Noah. “But I’d like a word, if I may, out in the hall.” He walks out, but I can feel him hovering just outside the door.
“You don’t have to talk to him.” I take a deep breath and lean back, the stinging along my back subsiding.
“I know.” He squeezes my hand, then lets go. “But I might as well see what he wants. Don’t worry, I think he knows where we stand.” He almost smiles. “Actually, I think the folks at the other end of the hospital know, too.”
I would shrug, but it hurts too much.
“I’ll be back.” He follows Zion, and I’m left with the doctor who returns to her work.
I peer at my good hand, dark brown blood crusted beneath the nails. Is it mine? Grace’s? Adam’s?
“All done with the hand.” The doctor pulls her steel tray away from the bed. “Go ahead and get on your stomach for me. I’ll close your back.”
She helps me turn in the bed and lie down, the back of my hospital gown open. “The cut on your arm will be fine without stitches, but you need to know it will scar.”
“That’s okay,” I murmur. “I have a lot of those.”
The room is dark when I wake, and for a moment, I’m back at the Cloister. Lying on my stomach, waiting for the next atrocity to happen to me or my friends.
“Adam?” I call out to the dark.
“It’s me.” Noah smooths my hair off my forehead. “Adam’s awake. I came to get you.”
“He is?” I try to sit up, but my back pulls, the stitches burning.
“Stay put.” He gently presses on my shoulder. “They’ve got you hooked up to an IV and some other stuff.”
“I fell asleep.”
“I know. The doctor said you were exhausted.”
“He’s alive?” I seize on the fact that matters most.
Noah nods and sits next to me. “He’s a tough bastard. Going to pull through. They gave him a lot of blood and repaired the damage in his neck.”
“I have to see him.” I try to push myself up.
“You can’t.”
“Noah, I am going to see him or I will scream this place down.”
“Jeez.” He stands. “Okay. Hang on. Just stay put and maybe I can wheel you to his room.”
I collapse down to the bed, the ache in my back almost unbearable. “Yes.”
He tinkers with the IV and gets it attached to the bed, then toggles the wheels. “I think this makes it go.”
The bed glides across the floor, the tires whining a little as he turns me and pushes me into the hall.